31. Cian

Later that evening,I stride into Victoria’s living room, eyes locking on each of them assembled, one by one. The air is thick with anticipation, and I can feel the weight of their gazes as they wait for my commands.

“Any boxes?” I ask immediately.

“Nope. Guess the plan is working,” Victoria says.

“For now. That won’t last.”

“So what’s the plan for tonight then?” Luke asks, avoiding looking at Victoria as he stands near the window.

I fix my stare on Victoria instead. “It’s a smash and grab. Quick in, quick out. I want compensation for their hit on the Union.”

“Nice,” Victoria says. “No bodies?”

“Only if they get in the way.”

“Let’s hope they form a blockade then.”

I smirk at her. She is a warrior.

“Where are we headed?” G asks, his gaze riveted to Victoria as she purposefully ignores him. What the fuck is this?

“Sink or Swim, the rave club near the Blue Bell. Kellerman’s family owns it.”

“Ugh, that place where they still do foam parties? Gross.”

“It’s a big earner, and they only take cash.”

“Oh, well, in that case, let’s suit up with body sanitiser.”

Snickering, I nod. “Game plan is easy. Walk in the front door and take out anyone who wants to get in our way. Hold up the register and walk out.”

“Love a simple plan,” Luke says.

“Still want eyes on the place,” I say to him. “We need the most direct path. It’s going to be dark, full of foam and people and most likely tightened security. I don’t want to be fucking about, trying to find exactly where the register is at the bar.”

“On it,” he replies and picks up his laptop and starts tapping.

Victoria turns and leans over his shoulder. Her eyes are sharp, tracing routes, exits, choke points moments later when Luke has the club’s cameras online. “We hit the main floor. Till’s here.”

Taking in the location, I nod. “Time to move.”

We leave the townhouse, taking with us only what we would for any old day. This isn’t a declaration of war. Not yet. This is them owing us. They won’t have the manpower to come at us with anything other than the presence of a swarm of irritating gnats.

The night bites with a cold only England knows, and we’re ghosts moving through it, silent and swift as we climb into Luke’s car. He sets off. The atmosphere is quiet and introspective as we drive to Riversway.

Soon, the club looms ahead, the neon sign harsh in the night sky. The music is pumping loudly, the perfect backdrop for our in-plain-sight heist.

Leaving the car, we glide forward with no hesitation.

We reach the entrance, and the solo bouncer barely looks up from his phone as he lets us in—mistake number one.

Inside, music pulses like a living thing. Bodies press and sway, lost in the beat. We slip through them, unnoticed predators among the drugged-up prey as a stream of foam is released into the air to shouts from the revellers.

We don’t just walk through the club, we own the fucking ground we move on.

As we make our approach, covered head to toe in this fucking foam, with Victoria bitching like crazy at the germs covering her body and hair, we encounter a couple of Kellerman’s men who recognise us.

Finally.

I was starting to get a bit insulted.

In a blink, Gianluca’s on them. No warning, just a blur of motion. Bones crack. Grunts echo. Bodies skid in the bubbles and thud to the floor. Silent but for the beat still pumping through the club, drowning the brief scuffle.

I grunt, stepping over a groaning heap that used to be a threat. We’re at the bar in seconds. Gazes snap to us. The bartender freezes, and patrons back away. It’s good. Fear cuts sharper than knives.

Waving Clyde in the direction of the panicked barkeep, I snarl, “Open it and unload.”

As Luke leaps over the bar and presses his knife to the man’s neck, he stammers, hands fumbling with the key around his neck that will manually unlock the register. Money spills out, notes fluttering like caged birds desperate for escape.

“Bag it,” I say in exasperation as he starts throwing the money at me.

“Right,” he mutters as Luke snickers in his ear. He grabs some money bags from under the counter and loads up as Victoria and G spin to deal with the fresh wave of security headed our way. Grunts, collisions, slipping and sliding on the goddamned foam, we finally have what we came for.

We back away, every step measured, senses strung tight until we’re clear, swallowed back into the heaving mass of the club. The night’s far from over, but this? This is just the fucking beginning.

Kellerman will come back at us twice as hard, and we’ll be ready.

“Let’s bounce,” I mutter.

We weave through the crowd towards the exit. The night air hits like a slap as we burst outside. It’s dark, late, and the city is ours. Our pace doesn’t falter; we move as one shadow across the pavement.

We slide into the car, and Luke groans. “This bastard foam is a menace.”

“I’m going to need to scrub from every orifice when we get home,” Victoria growls. “The haul had better be worth it.”

“How much?” G asks, turning from his place in the passenger seat as Luke takes off like a bat out of hell.

“Enough,” I growl, setting the bags in the middle of the seat between me and Tory. Kellerman won’t let this slide. There’ll be hell to pay, but I’m fucking looking forward to it.

“Next moves?” Victoria’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp as ever.

“Survive,” I reply, “then thrive.”

The streetlights streak past, blurring into a tunnel of dim gold. We’re phantoms now, slipping into the darkness that breeds us. Tonight, we’ve drawn a line, crossed it, set it alight. Tomorrow, we brace for the firestorm.

Noticing again that look that Gianluca gives Victoria, I narrow my eyes. She avoids his stare, but that only tells me she is desperate to look at him. This needs a confrontation because if this is about to become a thing, I want it out in the open tonight. No more fucking about with secrets and sex texts. If I’m already letting part of her go to Luke, does that mean I can give G part of the action? Fuck knows until they tell me what they really want.